


Dandelion

by notjustmom



Series: Box of 64 [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Parentlock, bit of fluffy angst, or angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:53:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: In honour of the soon to be departed shade of Dandelion from Crayola's box of 24, not sure whether it will remain in the box of 64.Rosie is fifteen.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PatPrecieux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/gifts).



Sherlock and Rosie made their way slowly up the stairs; John could hear them stop halfway up, and try to catch their breaths. He put down the paper and opened the door, watching as they struggled again up the steps.

"What the -"

"Painting." Rosie finally managed before she carefully laid the box of painting supplies down in the kitchen.

"What exactly are you painting? The Sistine Chapel?"

"Nope. My room." And with that, Rosie flounced over to kiss Sherlock's cheek, then collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep.

John pried the buckets of paint from Sherlock's fingers and kissed him gently. "Are you sure?"

Sherlock stretched his fingers out, trying to get some feeling back into them. "It's her room; good thing I went with her, she almost went with a neon orange." He shuddered at the thought. "Instead, we compromised..."

"Don't tell me?"

Sherlock winked at him and shook his head. "Aubergine was too grey, she went with a medium Plum. Black trim. She thinks it will look 'fierce.' Didn't know that word came back into vogue." He shrugged and looked at his phone."I need to pop over to see Molly, she texted that she would have some results for me in a while. It's fine, John. It's been years now, needs a new coat or two, anyway. I'll be back soon." Sherlock kissed John's forehead, then turned around and went back down the stairs and out the door.

John placed the buckets of paint next to the box of rollers, tarps and brushes, then went into Rosie's room. It was no longer a nursery, hadn't been for years, she had a bunk bed for those times when she had friends over, a desk for school work, far neater than his own, and a bookcase covered in plays, mostly Shakespeare with some modern bits thrown in, and the occasional chemistry textbook. She was not above a bit of fan girl crushes, the Dandelion walls were covered in movie posters, mostly of the rebooted Wonder Woman series. Did anyone ever come up with anything new, John wondered as he sat in the old rocking chair, the one piece of furniture that remained from her babyhood. He closed his eyes, intending to get up and make some lunch, but woke with a start to find Rosie sitting on the floor in front of him.

"What is it?"

John rubbed his face and smiled at her. "What is what?"

"You don't want me to repaint this room, why?"

"This room was a gift."

Rosie nodded and waited. She had a feeling this story had legs.

"You remember how we had to rebuild because of -"

"Eurus."

"Yep. Well, your Da and I weren't together yet. I was still living in the flat where your mum and I had lived. I would come over here to help, but he was mostly in charge of redoing the flat. He would never let me in to see this room, it was his room, before. Anyway. One day, I popped over unexpectedly one afternoon to find him painting this room. He had Dandelion paint everywhere, in his hair, his eyelashes, his feet were simply covered in the stuff. He sighed and put the roller down, then pushed his hand into his hair, which of course put even more paint into his curls. He said, 'It was meant to be a surprise. I, uhm, in case, in case. Damn it. I had this all planned out. I have all this space, John, and I was wondering, if you and Rosie would like to move in here, once it's finished. I understand if you don't. But, I have a cot on order, with a matching changing table - if it's too much -' "

"So, that's how he asked you, asked us to move in here? He did this room up for me?" Rosie asked quietly.

John nodded, and Rosie stood up, studied her father's face for a moment, then helped him up out of the chair and into a hug. "I think we have some paint to return. Let's keep the black though, I think it will look -"

"Fierce?" John grinned at her.

"No, kinda bee-like, dontchya think?"

 

Running out to do an errand back in an hour. - J

Good. Still have work here to do, may take a while. - S

Love you. - J

Love you, too. - S

 

When Sherlock got back late that night, he found Rosie crashed on the couch, John sitting next to her, combing yellow streaks from her hair.

"What did you do?"

"Shh, come here. She worked like crazy today, wanted to get it done before you got back." John took Sherlock by the hand and led him into Rosie's room. "They didn't have the same shade of yellow, but we got as close as we could."

"But -" Sherlock shook his head and stared at the freshly repainted walls. "You told her."

"I wanted her to know, thought it was important that she knew."

"It's just a room, John."

John turned to Sherlock and kissed him gently. "No, it isn't, Sherlock. You gave up your room, your space for Rosie, you didn't even know if I'd say yes, it was a risk."

"A calculated risk, John -"

John rolled his eyes at him, then saw Rosie peek in the doorway, and forgot what he was going to say.

"What do you think, Da?"

Sherlock turned and tried to keep the emotions out of his face, but he never could with Rosie. "It's lovely, Ro, very bee-like." She wrapped her arms around him and leaned into his shoulder.

"Thank you, Da."

"What for, Ro?"

"For wanting us, for wanting me, for being our family."

Sherlock was stunned into speechlessness for a moment, then he took a breath and let it go. "I'm the one who should be thanking you and your Papa." He lifted her face gently and looked into her eyes. "You will always be my family, you know that, don't you?"

Rosie nodded. "Yeah, Da. I know."

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked at his watch. "It's late, but I bet Angelo will rustle something up for us. Hungry?"

Rosie wiped her nose and nodded. "Starving."


End file.
